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| "I Entered Jalozai, the Cemetery of the Living" By Zalmaï Ahad Officially, the camp of refugees Jalozai does not exist. In reality, it spreads itself outside of view, in the middle of no man's land, approximately 35 kilometers outside of Peshawar, in the northwest of the Pakistan. Shelter is made of stretched patched plastic houses for the 80,000 Afghan refugees, who arrived in Jalozai within the past six months. The first time that I noticed it, a powerful wind flooded the place with dust, and the small white-patched tents resembled graves. At that point, I understood why the place had been named by its inhabitants "the cemetery of the living". The arrival of my vehicle in the camp was an event. A crowd of men and lean children threw themselves on me in hopes that I worked for a humanitarian organization, and that I would distribute a little food. To their disappointment, they learned I was only a photographer. Many moved away with sadness, while others remained to talk with me. Those who stayed recognized I had come to bear witness to the world of their situation and, as such, wished to help me in my work. The refugees who spoke of their plight perfectly understood the direction of my arrival. A Swiss photographer, of Afghan origin, who had never stopped following the events of the country of his origin. Despite it's geographical location, I have never stopped reporting the stories of Afghanistan. Earlier this year, I felt a strong craving to return to the region, after having read brief items announcing that some 200,000 refugees had flowed to Pakistan only to discover themselves once again abandoned by local authorities and the international community. I could not sit by and do nothing to prevent this new episode of Afghanistan's mortal agony. The trip Jalozai to confirmed my greatest fears. I had never seen my compatriots in such dénouement and distress. The health problems are enormous. After several days of observation, I realized most Jalozai residents passed entire days without hard bread or water. There is virtually no sanitation. And, for some 80,000 under-supplied persons, there exists only two doctors. Result: Countless cases of diarrhea and numerous children suffering from advanced dehydration. With very little food and water, and tattered plastic tents for shelter, there should be no question why hundreds Afghans are dying each day. Once proud and hardworking, Afghans have been forced to leave their homeland, not only because of Taleban oppression, but also because of a severe draught and an on-going civil war. After three weeks of reportage, I left the place with tears in my eyes, saying to myself that if nothing was done, all these people will perish. How many of my compatriots will die before the world pays attention? Four million Afghans are threatened by the famine. The world has caught only a glimpse of what is turning out to be the biggest humanitarian crisis in this century. Little of the Afghan reality has been publicized, as the world has turned away from this horrific situation. Despite U.N. reports of severe malnourishment and inhumane sanitation conditions, the suffering of my people continues in almost-silence.
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Born in Kabul in 1964,
Zalmai Ahad has lived life traveling among the people, a citizen of the world in its largest sense. After escaping a war against the Red Armies' occupation (1979-89) in his homeland
Afghanistan in 1980, Zalmai settled in Lausanne Switzerland. He studied photography at the School of Creative Photography in Lausanne and the Center of Professional Education in Photography (CEEP).